My Writing Process

Today I expanded on the classroom essay, although it still doesn’t have as much content as I would like it to have. I have lots of ideas for the essay, but it’s hard to fit them in because the structure is so tight-knit. I spent a lot of time figuring out where to fit the ideas in rather than writing them, so the content added was low although the time spent was high. I hope I can get this structural problem sorted out soon.

Despite this difficulty and the fact that abstract ideas seem to abound throughout the essay without concrete foundation, I really like this essay. Some of the writing is really awesome, and the idea behind it is cool. When it comes to demonstrating my development as a person, this essay shows one of the more interesting angles. Of course, I feel that way about every essay after I finish a day working on it.

Joan commented on a recent post asking about my writing process. To be honest, my writing process usually seems to be a mystery even to me. I’ll start with a sentence, a well-crafted, interesting sentence. Then I’ll expand on that idea. Then I usually realize that there’s more to say about this subject, something even more fundamental, so I’ll start writing in front of my original sentence. I just keep writing, expanding on what I wrote previously. I constantly rearrange and delete as I write. I am trying to establish an order, but I can’t do that until I create the materials that will be arranged. I just write and follow my instincts as to what else should be written. I can always delete something if it doesn’t make sense, but it’s good to write it anyway. Sometimes, my original sentence doesn’t even make it by the time the piece is done. I think Pablo Neruda described poetry as words arranged on a page. That’s how I would describe all writing. It’s about arrangement, and the process is about not being afraid to shift that arrangement around and play with it. At least, that’s what my process is like.

I plan on continuing to revise the essays for the rest of the week.